


You never know

by varevare (varebanos)



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Chobits AU, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varebanos/pseuds/varevare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim is spending the summer pretty much alone. Until he receives his birthday gift, that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winterysomnium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterysomnium/gifts).



> It's been a while since I last read any robots AU and I didn't even remember any DamiTim one so. The androids work like in Chobits, but there might be some inspiration from Asimov's work too. Anyways hope you enjoy it!

The box wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Just a completely normal cardboard box. Tim could easily fit inside, but as a relatively scrawny twelve-year-old, that wasn’t such an unusual thing. The box was brown and plain, without any logo or indication on it besides “fragile”, and a couple of stamps and stickers indicating that it came from somewhere far away. Nothing that Tim had never seen before, given how often his parents were away. They didn’t send Tim things all that often, but enough to make him used to seeing foreign languages and colorful stamps.

To Tim, however, the box was extraordinary in any case. Why? Well, it had just been Tim’s birthday -three weeks ago, but Tim wasn’t picky-, and the kid didn’t need big ribbons or anything to recognize his gift.

Standing there in the open entrance door, without having even touched the box yet, Tim could feel the excitement buzzing inside him. He hadn’t gotten a birthday present from his parents in two years! Even if it was just some old ugly statue they had found, which was quite possible, it was still special.

So special, in fact, that Tim was going to take it in his room and put it there. No matter how ugly it was.

Therefore, instead of opening it, Tim carried the box upstairs, not wanting to spoil the gift for himself. It was -unsurprisingly- really heavy, and it took Tim ten whole minutes to reach his bedroom. He could have waited for Mrs Mac to come over the next day, but he was concerned about her back and besides, he didn’t want to bother her.

Even Tim’s patience had a limit anyways, and he wasn’t sure he’d resist a whole day without opening the box. It would all have been easier if his parents also had a persocom working in the house -they could easily afford two or three-, but his father insisted they were uncanny, and so, when they were away it was just Tim and Mrs Mac on working days.

They were probably only house on the neighborhood without any kind of android. Even Mr Wayne had one called Alfred. Tim’s father, however, was adamant about the issue. Tim would protest -he loved technology-, but he knew that if his father bought one Mrs Mac would be sent away, and Tim appreciated her company. Even if she had almost discovered his night adventures a couple of times.

When Tim managed to drag the box inside his bedroom, he realized that it looked even bigger in the middle of all the junk lying around the floor. He had to rummage for a couple of minutes through his desk before he found the box cutter, but as soon as he got it, kneeled next to the box. He wanted to savor the moment, knowing he’d probably wouldn’t be as happy as he was at that moment after opening the box; but he was still too excited to care, and he started cutting through the tape. It was really well packaged and sealed, looked like professional work, and it took Tim a moment to be able to lift the lids.When he did, he discovered that against all his expectations, the contents of the box where anything but boring. In fact, to say he was surprised would be an understatement.

There was a person in the box, curled up and immobile.

For an instant, Tim thought it was some kind of figure, until his hands brushed the head almost by accident. The hair there was short but soft, and the skin felt cold at touch, but definitely not rigid. Tim started to panic, thinking already about calling the police -had his parents really sent him a corpse?!- when he noticed the small bumps on the sides of the head that identified the body as a persocom. They were black, pretty discreet in comparison with the usual white ones, but the bright green details were enough for Tim to identify what they were.

Somehow, this surprised him even more.

Although it was admittedly less alarming.

The persocom looked like a boy, of around Tim’s age, or maybe younger. If one ignored the bumps -ears, Tim remembered them being called that- it was so realistic it only appeared to be sleeping.

Except for the fact that the body was cold and not breathing but, details.

Tim sat back, completely baffled for a second. As popular as they were in Gotham, specially in the high class, Tim didn’t have any first hand experience with persocoms, although he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about having one one. He was pretty good with computers, but he didn’t even know where to start with one of these. He hadn’t even seen one deactivated before! For all Tim knew, maybe it didn’t even work.

Had his parents really bought him a persocom? It didn’t look like any of the housework models Tim had seen before. It was possible that they had thought Tim was lonely and had gotten him one to keep him company while they were away? That… actually made sense. His father wouldn’t have to deal with it in that case, and they’d feel less guilty.

Convinced with this reasoning, Tim went on to move some of the stuff lying around the floor to get more space. He’d need more information before he tried to start it, but he could as well get the persocom out first. Being that curled up looked uncomfortable. And it wasn’t like Tim wasn’t dying to take a closer look at it. The… boy was wearing a tight, black and white catsuit, without any decoration, and any of his limbs weighted more than a normal person’s. Tim had to cut the box all around to get it out. He managed to get it lying down on the floor -the joints were all loose and it was easy to position-, and with some afterthought he brought a pillow from his bed and put it under its head.

As his laptop buzzed to life, Tim found himself unable to take his eyes off the persocom. The skin was darker than most of the units he had seen, but of course, it came from a foreign country, probably that was the prefered style there. The facial features were also way more defined when compared to what Tim knew, even more beautiful, and Tim found himself impatient to know how the eyes looked when they opened.

As soon as the browser screen started, Tim’s fingers started flying on the keyboard. Soon, he had found a good amount of tutorials for beginners -as much as it pained him to apply that word to himself- and he kneeled again next to the persocom. For starters, he wasn’t naked like the tutorials said. Tim didn’t remember his parents being specially prudish, so with a bit of luck they hadn’t actually gotten him a blank computer. If one bothered to open the package and dress it, they might as well add something. Tim felt slightly offended that his parents would think he needed that, but as he hadn’t found a CD or anything in the box, it was a relief.

Since he had already unpackaged it, the next step was to start it. The tutorials said that most models had the turn on button on the back of their heads, and so Tim pushed until he got the persocom lying on the side. Again, he was surprised to find not a button, but a small keypad. He had to unzip the top of the suit to look at it properly, but it was just a numeric one, presumably for a password.

It figures that his parents would go out of their way to get an extra secure model.

Right under the keypad there was just the word “Damian” written, which Tim guessed was the model’s name. He wasn’t able to find the serial number, but at least he didn’t need to know that. What he needed to know was the password, and after a moment of hesitation so he went back to search around the box until he found a small piece of paper with some numbers in a handwriting he didn’t recognize. The paper seemed to be one of those good quality, expensive kinds of notepaper, and under the numbers it also said “take care of him, beloved”. Which Tim’s parents had never called him, but, the ink was a bit smudged. Maybe it said something else. Tim didn’t have time to care about that at the moment, and without thinking it twice, he input the code.

As soon as he added the last number, he felt the artificial skin start warming under his hands. The chest started rising and falling rhythmically -and maybe Tim had never really looked, but he didn’t remember ever seeing any persocom do that before. It wasn’t breathing, Tim realized there was no air coming out as soon as he turned it upside again, but the lengths the designer had gone to to make it appear alive were incredible.

Before Tim could really appreciate it, though, the persocom snapped his eyes open and sat up.

“Where am I?”

Tim blinked, surprised. The good part is that it clearly had the software installed. The bad part was that it was grabbing his wrist and glaring, and none of the tutorials had prepared Tim for this.

“Um, hi.” Tim tried to go with a smile and a wave from his free hand. “You are in my room.”

“You are not Father. Who are you?” The persocom looked incredibly suspicious of him, and Tim was at loss. Was this normal behaviour? He had only expected a human shaped computer! Maybe it was like a dog. Well, if that was the case, Tim knew he couldn’t allow him to be that disrespectful.

“What are you talking about? I’m your owner, of course!”

“You can not be my owner. I was told I was going to be sent to Father.”

Tim tried to release his wrist, but he wasn’t able to. The whole thing was preposterous! Persocoms were supposed to be agreeable and generally pleasing. Had his parents gotten him a persocom to mistreat Tim? To make him tougher or something?

It didn’t make any sense. Maybe they had just programmed him wrong.

“Stop that! My parents sent you, and you have to do as I say!”

“My mother sent me.” The persocom released Tim and stood up, looking around the room. “Where is Bruce Wayne?”

“You were sent here for me.” Tim stood up to confront him. “Why are you-”

Then, a piece of the box that was lying close catched Tim’s eye. It had the address, and the street number was… actually wrong. Or right, if the original sender had, indeed, intended to send the persocom to Wayne Manor. Somebody had delivered the package incorrectly.

The android ignored Tim, instead opting for keep looking around the room. Taking advantage of that, Tim picked up the cardboard piece and glared at it, hoping the address would change out of willpower. Of course his parents hadn’t gotten him a birthday gift. They hadn’t cared for two years, why would that suddenly change? And why would they send him a persocom, of all the things?

Bruce Wayne already had two sons anyways, why did this persocom say he was its father? It was so unfair. Tim didn’t have any friends or brothers, he needed one more!

Well, it was just a persocom. And Tim had turned it on first. It might not be intended to be his birthday gift, but it was going to be. He had an idea.

“What’s your name?”

The persocom turned around from where he was trying to open the window and stared at Tim distrustfully.

“If you need to know, my name is Damian Wayne. I was sent here to meet my father.” Tim guessed he should have deduced that. It still sounded too strange.

“Bruce Wayne is away.” Tim felt slightly lightheaded when he realized how easily the lie had come out. “I’m his son, Tim.”

Damian glared and crossed his arms defensively.

“I do not believe you. I am his only son.”

Tim lifted an eyebrow, and wondered, once again, who had programmed hi- it- it was hard to use “it” when “it” had a name.

“You don’t know Bruce has two sons already?”

“I- that cannot be. I am…” Damian appeared unsure for a moment. “My data-”

“Is obviously either obsolete or incomplete. Who knows for how long have you been in that box? But I can help you.” Tim gave Damian a bright smile. He wasn’t sure if persocoms reacted to that, but even if he knew, it was obvious that general persocom knowledge. Maybe Damian had some virus. Tim felt like he should care more than he did about that. “Do you have an owner?”

“…no.”

“Then I’ll be your owner until Bruce comes back, alright?” Tim’s smile got a bit sharper. “You need to recognize an owner soon or you’ll shut down in a couple of minutes, you know.”

Damian huffed. Why would anybody think that a persocom needed so many options for looking pissed?

“I guess.” His eyes -bright blue blue, Tim hadn’t noticed until then- looked at Tim and flashed for a second, like if there was a small camera behind them. There probably was one, in fact.

“Very well, but know from now that I am not going to be your slave or do everything you tell me to.”

Tim sighed, feeling exasperated already, although his stomach was still fluttering with excitement. He hadn’t really expected his plan to work -of course a persocom didn’t turn off after ten minutes without getting a proper owner. Tim had read enough explanations about what happened after starting a persocom for the first time. Obviously Damian, even with the full -almost too full- personality and random details installed, lacked a lot of data. It might be a bit despairing if Damian kept acting the same even after he had recognized him as an owner, but it wasn’t that bad.

“I can live with that.” He smiled again at Damian and opened the door to the corridor. “Come here, I’ll show you around the house.”

After a small moment of hesitation, Damian followed.


	2. Chapter 2

After spending the whole day running after Damian, Tim had to give up and accept it: the persocom was much more that a walking and talking computer. He had done nothing but surprise Tim in all his interactions. His data bank was incomplete, to start with: the only information he had about Bruce Wayne was his name and his face. Which benefited Tim, but he couldn’t stop thinking it was weird. And then there was the fact that he was his “father”, of course.

Tim would think he meant that Bruce Wayne was his creator, but in that case, why would he get Damian shipped from so far away? Damian seemed to be implying something more literal. And speaking of fathers, Tim had kept wondering why his own father considered persocoms uncanny. Seeing Damian nibble on a slice of bread while he glared around the room -Tim hadn’t even know they could eat!- Tim was sure that without the metallic ears, nobody would be able to distinguish Damian from a real ten year old.

At that moment, Damian kept asking about his father and complaining about the weather, and on his side Tim had so many questions he didn’t know what to start with.

“What’s wrong with the weather?”

Damian glared at Tim, as if it was the silliest question he could possibly have asked him -and maybe it was-, but he answered.

“I feed on sunlight, and it is too cloudy here for me to be comfortable.”

“Really?” Tim’s eyes shone with excitement. He just really liked computers. “I thought persocoms used electricity. What are your ears for if you don’t need a cable to charge?”

“You are genuinely stupid, right?” Damian replied, making a small clicking sound with his tongue that made Tim jump on his seat, fearing Damian was breaking down. “I can still use electricity, even if Mother prefers cleaner energy sources. I also have ports to connect with other computers.”

Another thing completely inexplicable about Damian was how unbearably rude he could be at times. Tim knew he had recognized him as his owner, otherwise he wouldn’t be following Tim around, but it was easy to forget. Maybe his personality had been made a image of his “mother”. Unfortunately, Damian didn’t seem to want to talk about her, at least not when Tim used direct questions, so he’d need to change topics for the moment.

“Why were you sent here?”

“To meet my father, of course,” Damian huffed, annoyed.

Without sparing another glance at Tim, he stood up. Clearly, that change of topics hadn’t gone too well.

“I want a connection with the net of the house.” Again, he made that small sound. Maybe it was just a random oddity. “I could get inside on my own, but I will give you the chance to give me the codes before I leave it unprotected.”

Tim scrunched up his nose at the barely veiled threat, but he went to register the drawers of the kitchen for the wifi password without protesting. Soon he found it, and when he turned around to give it to Damian, he found that the boy had gotten closer and was waiting merely inches behind him. Tim should be able to feel him breathing down his neck, but clearly, Damian wasn’t breathing. His thoracic cavity moved as if he was breathing, he used air to speak, but he wasn’t breathing.

It was just natural, of course. Robots didn’t need to breathe. Still, some part of Tim kept forgetting those small details, at least when he had to apply them to Damian, and he couldn’t repress a small shiver at the realization.

Tim was starting to understand why his father found them uncanny.

Seeing Tim frozen, Damian took the paper from his hands and read it -could Tim even say he had read it? Or had he just scanned it?-, and he turned around without a word, sitting back on the table again. Tim walked up to him and took the paper, finding no resistance, and put it back in place. A couple of minutes passed and Damian still didn’t move, his eyes closed, and Tim started worrying again. He hoped Damian hadn’t gotten a virus, although Tim threw away that idea soon enough, remembering how sophisticated was Damian’s system and all the extra security he had. With a sigh, Tim sat back in front of him, watching his eyelashes flutter from time to time.

While he waited, Tim tried to remember Bruce Wayne’s face. There was, indeed, a certain similitude in the shape of the eyebrows and the nose, although Damian’s lips were fuller. If he was human, Tim could easily believe that he was Bruce’s son.

“You were right. Father is on Europe.”

Tim jumped when he heard Damian’s voice. He had been as lost in his thoughts as Damian appeared to be, and he came really close to saying “is he?”

“How do you know?” he managed to say instead, causing Damian to glare at him again, although there was less heat behind it.

“Although the state of the net here is completely unsatisfactory, I am capable to make simple consults like that.” Damian looked less energetic than before, and he didn’t even keep staring at Tim, looking down at his hands before the end of the sentence.

“Are you okay?” Tim frowned, worried. “Did you spent a lot of energy setting the connection? There’s still some light outside, we could-“

“I am perfectly fine, Timothy.” Damian almost managed to make Tim’s name sound like an insult. Almost. “My father has missed his duty, and it does not make me happy, but I do not need him in the slightest.”

Tim almost feel like smiling. Damian was disappointed, and he looked like a disgruntled kitten like that. Well, if Bruce wasn’t even in the city, he probably wasn’t expecting Damian -who was supposed to be his “son” and was a very special model who wanted attention. And that probably meant that Tim would be able to keep Damian to himself without any negative consequences for a little longer.

“It’s alright, I can take care of you.”

Tim gave Damian a sweet smile, the kind that made the old ladies at the galas coo at him, and it was just a proof of how much Damian did care when he didn’t even snarl at Tim in response. Feeling more confident, Tim took Damian’s hand -it felt more human that it had any right to be- and tugged slightly.

“I will go to sleep now. Tomorrow I will show you the gardens and the other electronical devices of the house, alright?”

Soon, Tim discovered that going to sleep with Damian there proved itself to be harder than Tim had anticipated. Damian needed somewhere to sleep, or so he said (“I require to enter in hibernation mode for a minimum of five hours every day to cool my circuits,” he had explained), and of course he didn’t like any of the Drake Manor’s beds.

“These mattress are all unsatisfactory. Why do all these rooms look like made for guests?” Damian was once again eyeing Tim suspiciously. “Not even the master bedroom looks lived in.”

“All the people who should live here actually spend a lot of time outside, travelling,” Tim explained carefully. He wasn’t too confident in his lying skills, and it would be easier to just explain part of the truth. “But I am sure that if you start sleeping in any of the beds they will become comfortable eventually. They are good quality.”

“There should have been a room waiting for me,” Damian grumbled, and Tim wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear that or not. Why would a robot talk to itself?

Before Tim could determine that and react accordingly, Damian started walking away, and Tim reached him again just when they both arrived to Tim’s bedroom door.

“I have yet to test the bed on this room,” he said, opening the door without asking for permission

“But Damian, that’s my room! I sleep on that bed!” Tim protested, getting in the room after Damian, who promptly ignored him.

“Then it will surely more comfortable than the others.” Without another word, he lifted the covers and got inside.

“Damian!”

“What do you need?” Damian’s voice replied from under the sheets, sounding annoyed.

“I need to sleep there!”

“Then get inside, it’s more than big enough.” The bundle moved, making some more space for Tim. “Too big to be practical, in fact.”

“You-”

It had happened too fast for Tim to check, but he was pretty sure Damian hadn’t taken his shoes off before getting on the bed. He might not even be wearing shoes: the black cloth encasing his legs covered his feet, too. The biggest problem, anyways, was that Damian wasn’t obeying Tim -at least not properly-, and who knew what was he able to. The moment before when he lost his energy and just obeyed Tim had been temporary, and now they were back to the beginning.

Tim would have to do something about it. It could wait until the morning, though. He was way too tired to complain at that moment. In a minute, he changed into his pajamas and got on the bed, having to cover himself with one of the blankets Damian discarded. Soon, Tim was asleep, the soft rising and falling of the bundle of blankets at his side accompanying him.

Damian didn’t trust him, but he didn’t suspect of him either. Tim could work with that.


	3. Chapter 3

Tim woke up feeling warm. Warmer that he ever remembered, even for a summer morning. It was comfortable though, cozy even, and he allowed himself to spend a couple of minutes just relaxing before trying to get up and go on with his day. Not that he had much to do, as it was summer break and his parents were not home, but Mrs Mac would be there soon and she never approved of him wasting his morning on the bed.

The light filtering through the thin curtains was bright already, with the slight blue tint usual on clear summer mornings, and the blinking of his alarm clock showed that it was past his normal breakfast time. Tim couldn't even understand how had not he woken up, the sluggish feeling being the only cause he could think of -not that he was thinking a lot. In any case, he determined it was time to get dressed, and tried to get out.

Trying being the key word here, because as soon as he attempted to move an arm tightened around his waist, stopping him. Tim's heart skipped a beat, and he remembered the previous day events. The arm (and the warmth) belonged to his new persocom, that had at some point during the night ended up using Tim as a pillow, and did not look all too eager to wake up. With some effort, Tim managed to turn around and look at Damian's face. He looked way more peaceful as he slept -hibernated, Tim remembered after a moment-, relaxed for once, and Tim almost regretted having to wake up.

The biggest problem, of course, would be to hide Damian from Mrs Mac, and Mrs Mac from Damian, but Tim was willing to make the effort. For now, he needed to get away from the persocom. His cheeks were heating up -from the excessive heat, or so he told himself-, and he couldn’t barely move as it was.

"Damian, wake up," he mumbled, trying to pry the android's arms from him.

Damian did not move, but he seemed to notice Tim's fidgeting, because after a moment he opened one eye and looked up at Tim. He looked more awake that Tim himself felt, but it took him a minute to register their current position. As soon as he did, though, he was jumping away from Tim and standing up, as if he had never been... snuggling, or whatever he had been doing, against him. If it wasn't because of the overall weirdness of the situation -the whole sleeping persocom thing was weird to Tim, anyways- Tim would almost call it cute.

Sadly, soon Damian had recovered was back with his usual frown and bad mood, though, and Tim decided it would be the best to get up himself without commenting on it.

"Did you sleep well?"

"As I have explained you previously, Timothy, I do not sleep."

Damian glared at him, and Tim wondered if the faint pink staining his tanned cheeks was merely an effect from the morning light.

"Well, did you have a good hibernation period then?"

"It was sufficient," Damian grumbled and he turned around, moving the curtains to glance at the outside and making Tim remember what he said about feeding on sunlight. "Did my father-" and there was a small pause before 'my', as if he wasn't sure if he should say 'ours' instead, or anything at all "-say anything about me being here?"

Now that, that made Tim remember what he himself had told Damian, about him being Bruce's son too, about Damian just having to wait with him for Bruce Wayne to come back, and suddenly the morning wasn't as bright and the room wasn't as warm.

"He hasn't," Tim replied with some hesitation, and he went to get dressed, not really wanting to continue talking about that.

Damian didn’t reply.

-

It had been a couple of hours since Timothy had woken up, and Damian still hadn’t seen anybody else in the house. He thought there should have been more servants, but he knew his information wasn’t all that good -or updated, really.

He knew what year was, and he knew his Father’s birthday and Wayne Enterprises main exports, but he had never known about his other children. Everything he knew about the house was what Timothy had shown him or what he had learned by himself once he was there, and besides some basic data he didn’t have anything else: no memories, nothing. Either Timothy had been the first person to connect him, or the last time Damian had been working he had gotten his memory wiped.

Damian still knew who was Mother, of course, and he knew how to contact with her. Damian had actually tried, but the communication kept getting interrupted somehow. He had looked into the net about it, but there wasn’t a lot to do, not without admitting to himself he was defective...

And Damian was not defective. He was Bruce Wayne’s son, he was created to be perfect. He couldn’t allow it. Wouldn’t. If Timothy asked (or, eventually, his Father, though Damian hoped to have it solved by then), he’d give him any excuse. He had learned a lot about excuses using that program called Google.

Timothy had given him a lot of time to do that, because after getting dressed and tidying up his room a bit, he had locked Damian inside one of the guest rooms he showed him earlier and told him to wait for a moment.

The moment was two hours now, and still going.

Damian could have gotten out anytime, of course, but he had no tools on himself. The only way would be to damage either the door or the windows -that were, apparently, never supposed to open-, and damaging the Manor wasn’t something he thought his Father would approve of.

He had starting researching prices of window repairs in Gotham when Tim finally unlocked and opened the door. He had completely changed clothes -a waste of time in Damian’s opinion, since they all looked kind of the same- and seemed completely unrepentant for making him wait for so long. Instead of even mentioning it, in fact, he merely smiled and threw a jacket at Damian.

“Put that on, I know it’s summer but you can’t go out wearing that,” Tim said with a wide grin in his face. “Mrs Mac already left, and we are going to get you some new clothes!”

Part of Damian wanted to ask about that Mrs Mac -why hadn’t Damian been introduced to her?- but it got pushed away in favor of the more important question.

“We are going out?”

“Yes, to the city! I even got the bus tickets already, we should get going now.”

Timothy was clearly feeling excited over the whole thing, and Damian found himself out of complaints. Seeing Gotham properly -a city he had so much theoretical information about, but no experience with- was admittedly a better plan that spending the rest of the way in that room.

“Very well, let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to update T^T I really adore this verse but it's kinda hard to write? Plus I've been busy with my big bang fic :X hopefully I'll finish it this month though and then I'll be able to work on these more!
> 
> I'm really excited about the next chapters, too uwu


	4. I am not a robot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update ;x;

Damian dedicated way more attention that he would want to admit staring in fascination at the streets. It wasn’t like he was discovering anything new; he knew what cars were, and how different people could look. Food stands and fountains were all concepts he understood. Finding himself in the middle of a city was completely different, though. The emptiness of the Drake household also made the contrast even more shocking. All the noise and movement weren’t things the images and definitions he had studied had prepared him for.

 

Timothy was clearly enjoying himself, looking around excitedly and trying to explain Damian all the landmarks. He probably didn’t get to go out much, Damian knew enough to guess they were sneaking out, and he apparently got as bored in the house as Damian imagined.

 

He actually knew the city pretty well, too. Damian had data of the most famous buildings and significative streets, but Tim seemed to have something to say for every icecream parlor or pizza joint. Damian had started to wonder if he had some kind of computerized brain when Tim pointed to a persocom walking on the streets. Damian’s glance went there automatically, and he didn’t like what he saw.

 

"I am not an idiot, Timothy. I can recognize other persocoms," Damian snapped.

 

"Alright, no need to get like that," Tim replied sullenly, falling back into silence.

 

As a matter of fact, if Tim hadn’t pointed them out, Damian would have never recognized them. They weren’t… like Damian himself was, or so he hoped. Their movements were all far from smooth, their faces lacking personality and with something uncanny in them. Most of them were even wearing costumes! They looked so inhuman, Damian would have never put them in the same group as himself. All this time, using what he knew and how he thought he looked, he had expected little less than humans with shiny ears, and now he had to wonder if he looked the same in everybody else’s eyes. If he’d look the same in his father’s eyes when he finally met Damian. He shuddered, suddenly thankful for his discreet ears and the plain clothes Timothy had given him.

 

Damian didn’t want to continue that train of thought, so the next time they passed some flashy building he asked Tim about it. Tim gave him a weird look, but soon he returned to his explanations, and Damian managed to get distracted enough to avoid thinking about the persocoms for the rest of the ride.

 

Soon the bus arrived at their stop, and Tim tugged from his sleeve until Damian was following him into the mall. Damian didn’t like being surrounded by all the people there. When they were in the bus, he was higher and there was a glass between them. Having to jump around all the time to avoid brushing somebody else was stressful. Timothy had to be aware of the existence of online shopping, hell, most people there should, why were they there?!

 

Damian was starting felt self conscious about his ears with so many strangers around, and when Tim wasn’t looking, he tried to see if he could cover it with his short hair somehow. He was looking at his reflection in a glass, and apparently, Tim liked what was behind the glass well enough, because before Damian could react Tim dragged him inside the store behind himself.

 

"What do you think about this?" Tim asked Damian, suddenly unfolding a sweater mere inches from Damian’s face. "I think it’ll look good on you."

 

"I like black better," Damian said, not sure of what Tim expected him to say. The sweater was bright green, and it had some deformed bear on it. Ugly would be too nice for it.

 

"Oh, yes, like your clothes. Do you like white pants then? You’ll need pants."

 

Tim didn’t seem bothered by Damian’s attempts at rejecting all the clothes he showed him, and they both ended up carrying a good amount to the fitting rooms. Nobody was paying them much attention, not even when they noticed Damian’s ears, and Damian went from being worried about his looks to merely annoyed at Tim.

 

"Exactly why do all my clothes have to be so garish?" he ended up yelling after rejecting the 15th yellow shirt.

 

"You don’t like them?"

 

Tim looked really surprised for somebody that had tried to make him wear yellow, red and green together.

 

"Of course I don’t! Not even you wear these kind of things!"

 

"Because I am human! But persocoms always wear bright colors!" Tim worried his lip before looking around. "Do you like blue better?"

 

"Not that blue!" Damian practically screamed when he saw Tim walking towards an electric blue sweater somebody had discarded before them. "I don’t want to wear that! I want normal clothes!"

 

Everybody was staring at them, and Damian felt more self conscious than ever. They were definitely noticing his ears now, and frowning. Why were they frowning? Was it so bad that Damian wanted to look like a person?

 

"Alright," Tim said, his voice smaller than before. "I just thought you would like that kind of thing, I didn’t mean… You can pick clothes if you want."

 

Damian closed the curtain violently without replying, wanting to get away both of Tim and the clothes and from the stares. He went to change back to the clothes he had been wearing when he entered, when he noticed his reflection in the mirror. Under the bright lights, there was no way to avoid it. Did he really look that different? From the front, the ears were nothing but small green lines, but they reflected the light. Everything else looked human enough. At least, Damian thought that. Maybe he had just been programmed to think that. Programmed to think he could be just like the other humans, when he really was nothing but another machine in bright clothes with no feelings.

 

The pressure he felt in his chest contradicted that, though.

 

"Like anybody cares," he muttered, remembering the surprised and repproving stares.

 

Nobody glared like that to the kid throwing a tantrum in the next stall. Still, he didn’t want to deal with Timothy looking so ridiculously disappointed either, and he ended up picking a selection of shirts and pants and jackets in neutral shades. Tim also insisted he should get some underwear too, and they ended up checking absolutely everything in the store. Damian accepted a blue sweater that was still too cheery for his taste, but Tim had said it complimented his eyes. He’d rather have people looking at his eyes than at his ears.

 

It also made Tim smile when he tried it on, and Damian found that he had nothing against making Tim smile like that either.

 

On their way to the checkout, Damian’s eyes found a rack with something slightly similar to the socks they had already picked, but they were shapeless and Damian couldn’t guess how they were worn for the life of him. He normally wouldn’t have cared, but the mostly grayish shades made him think they were not for persocoms, and anything that was exclusively for humans interested him.

 

"What is that?"

 

Tim glanced at the rack Damian was pointing at, more interested in keeping all the clothes they had picked out of the floor.

 

"Oh, those are beanies. They’re hats. Do you want to try one on?"

 

Damian picked one without replying, and noticed there was actually a picture of a human wearing one on the tag. Or maybe it was a persocom. One couldn’t tell with how the ears were covered…

 

Tim blinked at least five times without saying anything.

 

"What’s wrong? Does it look bad?" Damian asked, worried. He wanted a way to cover his ears more than anything else he had seen at the store, and for what he could see of his reflection on a nearby mirror, the beanie hat did the trick.

 

"No! It’s just… not your style." Tim smiled. "But it looks good. Cute. Do you want one?"

 

Damian took it off and frowned at it. It was true that it didn’t quite look like the clothes he had been picked. Something so shapeless wasn’t the style he liked -or had been programmed with, but if he started pinpointing everything to programming he’d go crazy. He told himself styles couldn’t change, and it wasn’t like he had ever disliked them. Beanie hats hadn’t even been in his data bank before.

 

"Yes, I think so. I want one."

 

"Alright, just be careful it doesn’t fall off on the way back."

 

Damian put the hat on again in response.


End file.
